Three drinks, two hours, and one indecent proposal later, Roxy felt pretty good. Did she mention the three drinks? She came off the dance floor looking for more refreshments, but she also needed to find Sarina—who’d been lost somewhere during the switchover from spritzers to vodka neat.
Finding Sarina wouldn’t be easy. She ran errands for the DJ, and kept things going,so he could focus on the music. Which was awesome. The club was hopping. The dance floor a bunch of gyrating sardines. Even the VIP area was packed. There were rumors of a Kardashian sighting. There were also rumors a big light show would be starting up soon.
Not that any of that mattered. Roxy still had a summons to deliver. At this rate, she’d be too drunk to deliver it.
She used an empty chair as a stepstool and looked over the gyrating bodies. How hard could it be to find a five-foot-six blond in a sea of darkness? Evidently, pretty darn hard. Roxy spun around and angled her hand above her eyes. Everyone else did that when they tried to see far away. Maybe it would help.
It didn’t.
She jumped down and stumbled back, hitting someone. “I’m so sorry,” she yelled as she turned.
Sarina.
Who held her hands up, steadying Roxy. “Whoa. I found you. We should run up and deliver that summons before you’re too drunk to walk.”
They should. But something about the look on Sarina’s face said she might need a few more drinks. Either it was remnants of the Cliff situation or work was stressful. It could go either way. “We should get another drink,” Roxy said.
Sarina smiled. “One more…”
The music stopped as flashing lights splashed across the ceiling. “Welcome to the Imprint Hotel,” a disembodied voice boomed at the same time a waterfall of glittering sparks spilled down the side of the stage. “Are you ready?” The crowd’s response echoed off the walls, and people surged forward to see the faux fireworks.
Roxy tugged Sarina off to the side to keep from being shoved. There was a weird zzzt right behind them, and the fireworks cut off—replaced by a puff of smoke that didn’t look like part of the show. Something crackled and white sparks flew up from the power supply, right toward the curtains on the side of the stage. Then all the lights went out.
All noise stopped. Blackness cloaked the room. People gasped. Sarina crushed the feeling out of Roxy’s hand.
“I’m here.” Roxy squeezed her hand. Ever since Sarina’s brother locked her in the closet when she was six, she’d been afraid of the dark. Roxy wasn’t a fan, either. Especially with the frantic voices and the anxiety amping up the heat in the room.
“Everyone remain calm,” someone said from over by the bar area. Red lights popped and sputtered along the floor. “Please follow the lights to the exits in an orderly fashion.”
People didn’t do either of those things. Which wasn’t much of a surprise. Everyone screamed and stampeded toward the doors along the front and back walls of the club.
Roxy pulled on Sarina’s hand. “We have to get out of here.”
The two of them followed the crowd out the front door and into the parking lot. People stood around, watching as firetruck after firetruck sped up to the building. Ten minutes later, the lights in the bottom half of the hotel flickered back on. Thirty minutes later, the firemen exited the building. The people from the club peeled off, heading to cars. Roxy surveilled the group of spectators, looking for Donnie.
No Donnie. Just the bartender who served her earlier.
“Hey.” Roxy walked over to the bartender. “That was insane. Are the hotel guests outside, too?”
“Nah, they didn’t evacuate the hotel rooms. Just the main floor.”
Which explained why she couldn’t find Double D.
“Can we go home?” Sarina asked, rubbing her bare arms and shivering. It was a little cold.
“Why don’t you go wait in the car?” Roxy suggested.
“Are you going in the hotel?”
“I have to deliver this.”
“Fine.” Sarina pouted. “But I want pancakes.”
“After we deliver this, you can have all the pancakes you want.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
A man in a black suit whistled to get everyone’s attention. There were still at least a hundred people milling around. “We’re closing down the club for the night,” black suit guy announced. “We’re sorry for any inconvenience. For those staying at the hotel, we’ll start letting everyone in.”
Groans echoed between the cars as clubbers must have realized they didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t stay here.
“Time to party!” a group of girls squealed next to Sarina. A bridal party, if the eighties outfits and sashes were to be believed.
“Oh, crap. You got your key? I gots no key.” A woman with a gold tiara and a sash that read Bride slapped at the spandex on her legs. She giggled and then yelled, “I’m getting married.” Apparently, she only spoke English when talking about her wedding. Otherwise, her sentence structure was lacking.
Sarina leaned in. “Do you see Rafe?”
“No.” Roxy stepped up on a planter and watched as people filed into the hotel, security holding the doors open. The employees checked that each person held a room key. Roxy focused at the bridal party. Half the women had key cards. Ergo, Sarina and Roxy needed to be in that half.
“Excuse me.” Roxy stumbled into the bride. “You’re getting married!”
A chorus of screams and woots filled the air as her posse followed behind. Their plastic hats and lei’s whipped over their heads. “Let’s go up to the room and party!”
“Party!”
“Time for shots!”
“Sarina, follow me. Stay with the group.” Roxy turned to one of the bridesmaids. At least, that was what her sash said. “Can I try your hat?”
“My hat?” She shrugged. “Sure.”
Roxy put on the hat and ducked as she ran with the bubbly bridesmaids. The women bounced and screamed like cheerleaders at nationals. Roxy didn’t bounce or scream or bubble. She improvised. She raised her hands, yelling sporadically about weddings, marriage, and the occasional ode to booze.
The security personnel at the door waved them all in. “Make good choices, ladies.”
Roxy, Sarina, and the gaggle made it across the atrium and stood at the elevators. A man in the center of the room directed traffic. Rafe. His gaze moved to the wedding party. Roxy swore he could see her. She waited for him to stomp toward her, but he just kept staring until a man in a suit grabbed his attention.
The elevator door swung open and the wedding party slipped inside. They hit the button for the thirty-fifth floor. She inched to the back of the elevator, pulling Sarina with her. When the women staggered out the door, Roxy and Sarina waited. The door shut before anyone seemed to notice they hadn’t followed.
Roxy hit the button for forty-four. “They have cameras, so we’ll have to be quick.”
“What exactly are we doing?”
“We have to knock on doors.”
Sarina looked at her like she was out of her mind. “Knock on doors? It’s after one. People are probably sleeping.”
“We’ll be fast. It’s Vegas. No one comes to Vegas to sleep.”
The elevator doors opened onto a small vestibule with a mirror and a walnut side table. All was quiet, except for the hum of a soda machine and the clink of cubes from the ice machine. Hallways—multiple— branched out to the right, left, and center.
Sarina voiced Roxy’s next question. “Which way do we start?”
“I don’t know.” Roxy pointed to the various hallways. “Eenie meanie minee moe?”
“Really?”
There had to be a more scientific way to get this done, but Roxy couldn’t think of one. She blamed the vodka. No one stood in the halls. No open doors. “Do you have a better idea?”
“No. But do it quick.” Sarina rubbed her hands over her arms. “I’m tired.”
Roxy’s finger bounced as she mumbled and counted out the rhyme, landing on the hallway to their right. “That one.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Roxy knocked on the first door. “Let’s split up. Can you take the evens?”
“Sure.” Sabrina knocked on the second door. “What does this guy even look like?”
No answer at the door. Roxy approached the next door. “Five-five. Red flyaway hair. Pale.”
“Paler than you?” Sarina laughed as she retreated from her first unanswered door.
Roxy knocked on the next one. “Funny.”
The door flung open. “What?” A woman in a floral muumuu hovered in the opening, hair sticking up in peaks. Her eyes were heavy lidded. And glaring.
Roxy’s mouth dried. She probably should have had a plan—what to say, what to do. But instead, she stood in front of this poor woman, who was half asleep. Think, Roxy. Think. Why would she be knocking on random strangers’ doors? “I’m looking for my father, Donnie.”
The woman glared.
“Smallish man, red hair.”
“Do I look like your father?”
“No, ma’am?” The door slammed in Roxy’s face. This was going well. In all the mayhem of muumuu lady, she hadn’t noticed another door was open.
“We’re looking for her father, Donnie. Have you seen him?” Sarina stole Roxy’s excuse. Although, it was probably good that they had the same story.
“No, man.” A guy with a Black Sabbath T-shirt and boxers leaned against the door jam. Skunky smoke billowed out of the room as someone called out, “You girls wanna party?”
“Sorry.” Roxy pulled Sarina back from the door opening. “We need to find my dad.”
“Oh, yeah. That sucks.” Stoner shook his head. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.”
They knocked on the next set of doors. Nothing. They were halfway down the hall, and Roxy slapped her palm on the door. What? Her knuckles felt like she’d just left fight club.
The door popped open. “It’s after one o’clock. The building better be on fire.” An elderly man in button-down pajamas blinked. His white handle-bar mustache swished as his nostrils flared.
“I’m looking for my father?”
“So you knock on random doors. What’s wrong with you?”
Roxy backed up. She wasn’t sure his question was meant to be answered. Because if she answered what was wrong with her, they could be here for a while. Instead of jumping on his couch and revealing her darkest secrets, she said, “I got the room number wrong. I’m so sorry, sir.”
Which could be true. He was freaking out about a wrong knock, but she could be genuinely lost. He didn’t know. “You’re sorry? Pfft. You young people have no concept of common decency. Too busy playing on your phones.” He sighed.
“We’re so sorry…” Sarina put her hand on Roxy’s arm—in comfort or to pull her away, Roxy wasn’t sure.
“Another one? What is wrong with you two?” Again rhetorical.
“We didn’t mean…”
“I need my sleep. I’m calling security.” He slammed the door as Roxy and Sarina begged him, “Please don’t.” But the door was shut, and his bushy lip was probably yelling into the house phone as they stood there.
“We have maybe five minutes.” Roxy knocked on the next two doors. “Go two at a time.”
Sarina nodded and ran down to the next set of doors. Nothing.
Roxy approached the next set and realized a sliver of light glowed along the edge of the door. “Sarina, this one is open.” She knocked. No one answered. “Should we go in?”
Sarina moved to the next door. “Just check. I’ll knock on this one.”
“Fine.” Roxy nudged the door and it opened with a creak. The lights were on. “Hello?” She stepped inside.
The room was huge. A large foyer led to a living area, where the TV on the wall played music videos with the sound muted. An L-shaped red couch, bigger than Roxy’s entire living room, sat in the center. On the coffee table were two champagne flutes, filled half-way. An open bottle of Dom Perignon chilled in a silver ice bucket. Someone had to be here.
“Anyone home?”
No answer. To the right was a door to another room, probably a bedroom. To her left was a kitchenette with… Holy crap. There were round trays with enough sugary pastries to put a toddler into diabetic shock. In the center of one tray was a giant cake covered in strawberries. The first tier had been cut, revealing bright pink cake.
She loved strawberry cake, but it was rude to take cake, right? Individual pastries were fair game, though. She picked up a brownie square. The white chocolate circle propped on top had a weird crest painted on it. Roxy took a bite. Heaven. Maybe she should try a bit of the strawberry cake—soak up all the booze in her system. Yeah, that’s why.
“Any luck?”
Roxy heard Sarina’s voice before she saw her. And she felt like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar—or pastry plate, as it were. She walked around the counter and across the room to the couch. Gauzy pink material hung on the red armrest. Maybe he threw a party and they all got stuck on the roof. Sometimes even locals couldn’t handle their Vegas.
She turned toward the door of the bedroom and peered inside. “Hello?”
Quiet. She slid her hand along the wall next to the door and found a switch. With a flick, light flooded the room. A large king-size bed stood against the far wall. Emptiness and quiet. She went to flip off the light, and paused.
There was nothing in the room… until there was.
A bare foot angled around the edge of the far side of the bed. Or maybe not. Maybe it was flesh-colored clothes. She inched closer.
Please be flesh-colored clothes. Please be flesh-colored clothes. Or towels.
“Hello?” She asked the … the sweatshirt?
But it wasn’t a sweatshirt. Her vision went black as her heart raced.
Red liquid splattered along the side of the bed. Before she could tell her feet to stop, they carried her around the bed. A scene from A Nightmare on Elm Street played out on the floor. Donnie’s red hair was caked in blood. His eyes wide. Red pooled on his shirt and had seeped into the carpet. Her feet reversed direction, trying to get away before whatever was on the ground jumped onto her. A good plan, except she hadn’t counted on the bedspread wrapping around her legs like a polyester kraken. Flailing her arms did not help as her ass hit the floor with a splat.
Blood coated her hands. Her dress was soaking in a pool of Donnie’s life force. There was a scream. Apparently, it was her. The brownie in her belly was on the verge of full-fledged mutiny.
“What’s going on… Oh my God,” Sarina said from behind her, followed by an ominous thud.
Roxy scrambled back, her bloody hands smearing on the rug. Not her blood. Donnie’s. All. Over. Her. A gag stuck in her throat. She’d never seen a dead body, let alone swam in one.
Oh, she was going to hurl.
“Security!” A man in a suit slammed the door open, gun drawn. Another man in a suit followed behind. The first suit was Rafe. Thank goodness. She wanted to jump into his arms and climb him like a howler monkey. He could carry her away and she could pretend the past few minutes didn’t happen.
Rafe kept his back against the wall as he slid toward Roxy.
“He’s here.” Roxy raised her hands into the air and pointed a finger at the bed.
Other suit guy moved to the bathroom and flipped on the light. “Clear.”
Rafe made his way into the room and opened the closet. He swiveled toward the room. “Clear.” He holstered his weapon, stepped over Sarina, and avoided the blood. He put two fingers on Donnie’s throat.
“Is he…” The wobble in her voice went all the way to her toes. She couldn’t bring herself to finish that question.
“Yeah.” Rafe nodded, unclipping the walkie talkie at his hip. He clicked it and said, “Amato here. We need the police and an ambulance in room 4428.” He leaned over Sarina and felt her pulse. “What happened here?”
“She fainted.”
“And you?” He ran a hand down Roxy’s arm as his eyes travelled up her body. No leering, just concern. “Are you okay?”
She wanted to say yes, nod her head and pretend this wasn’t the most horrifying thing she ever saw. But her head wouldn’t lie, and the tears poking at the back of her eyes wouldn’t stop.
He must have understood her inaction. His arm snaked around the back of her body. “It’ll be okay.”
He was warm, and big, and strong. She almost felt like she was safe. Almost. She laid her head on his chest. His heart was steady. Hers pounded a heavy metal song. His hands were sure. She could feel their strength on her back. She shook like a tweaking meth addict. “We found him like that,” she told him.
“Shh. It’s okay.” His lips lingered at the top of her head, his breath along her hairline anchoring her. “We’ll talk later. Just relax.”
“What happened?” Sarina propped herself up on her elbows and dropped back down. Thank goodness. She didn’t need to see any of this again.
“Stay there,” Roxy said, pulling away, but Rafe held on tight.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m dizzy.” Sarina’s hand flopped onto her face.
“Sir, the cops are in the lobby. They’ll be here in three.” Another suit guy stood in the doorway. He might have been there the whole time.
Rafe pulled back but kept his hands on her arms. Maybe he was afraid she’d float away.
Or maybe that was her.
“Let’s go wait outside,” he said.
There was nothing more she wanted than to get out of that room—away from the man staring with dead eyes. But she couldn’t leave. “Sarina needs help getting up.”
“The EMTs will be here in a minute.”
“I can’t leave her here.” Roxy’s best friend might not be covered in blood, but Donnie sure was—and so was Roxy— dammit. Sarina needed to get out of the room without seeing Donnie, or she might go down again.
Rafe looked at Roxy like he wanted to argue. But instead, he nodded at the security guard at the door. “Can you let Roxy in to 4430 and prop the door open?” Rafe rested his hand on her back and guided her toward the door.
She stood by the guard and watched Rafe rescue Sarina. He slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted her. Careful not to hit her head on any walls or door frames, he carried her out of the room down to room 4430. He laid her on one of the beds. Gently. It was super-sweet and super-hot.
“I have to meet the police.” Rafe straightened and turned to Roxy, sliding a hand along Roxy’s cheek. It was strong and warm. She wanted to lean into his hand like he was a homing beacon. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
She nodded. It was the most logical thing to do. She didn’t feel okay, but he didn’t need to know. From experience, she knew she’d be fine, eventually. Although her experience never included a dead body before.
“I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.” His hand hadn’t moved as it softly held her head in an upright position. He was close. Too darn close. He wet his lips, and her body seemed to forget that her best friend was on the bed and a dead guy was in the next room.
She kept her eyes on his—eyes that were hooded, hazy, like any minute he would kiss her until the whole night just disappeared. It almost looked like he didn’t want to leave her.
Join the club.
He shook his head and the haze parted. “I have to deal with this.” He went to the open door and turned. He was such a nice guy. “If I tell you to stay, will you listen this time?”
This time? Had to get in that jab, didn’t he? Good thing he left. She had so many responses to that comment. So many. Good ones, too. But she had a best friend that needed her.
Roxy sat on the bed and ran a hand over Sarina’s arm before taking her hand. “Sarina, honey, are you okay?”
Sarina tilted her head to the side, squinting a little. “He carried me in here.”
“He did.” She squeezed Sarina’s hand.
“I think I’m in lust with those arms.” Sarina’s lips tipped up at the edges.
Roxy could understand. “I want to cut off those arms and dip them in gold.”
“Are you Roxy?” A woman carrying a giant bag with a medical symbol stood at the door. She looked hesitant to walk in. Her eyes kept snapping back and forth between Roxy and Sarina.
“Yes.”
“Did you hit your head?” She approached Roxy, staring into her eyes in a “have you lost your mind” kind of way. Or maybe she was just checking for a concussion.
“I’m fine.”
“I should probably check you out.” The EMT stepped over near the bed, but her eyes were on Roxy—namely the blood on Roxy’s hands.
She’d forgotten about all the blood. “It’s not mine. I slipped and fell near the victim.” Roxy rubbed her red hands down the side of her skirt. It was a lost cause—dried and crusting. Her skirt, however, was wet and sticky. Roxy didn’t want to look. “My friend on the bed passed out and fell.”
The EMT hesitated before sitting on the bed and opening her bag. “Do you remember what happened?” The EMT shone a light in Sarina’s eyes and checked the back of her head.
It was easy to see the moment Sarina remembered. “Dead guy?”
“Yeah.” Just thinking about him made her stomach clench.
Sarina must have gotten a good look at Roxy, because her skin turned a Lady Liberty shade of green.
“How does your head feel?” The EMT was still all business, pushing aside blond hair.
“Fine.” Sarina started to get up as the EMT pulled away.
“Go slow.” The EMT turned to Roxy. “Are you able to make sure she gets home?”
“Yes.”
“She doesn’t appear to have a bump, but she shouldn’t drive and needs to be watched for the next twenty-four hours to make sure symptoms don’t pop up. Confusion. Headache. Vomiting. Mood changes.”
“I can do that.”
“I’m fine.” Sarina stood. No wobbling or tripping.
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Roxy nodded to the EMT as a cop entered the room. Detective most likely. White shirt, dark jeans and a badge at his hip. Kind of like the clothes MacAuley MacAuley had on earlier today, but this guy was black, with a buzz cut and fade.
“Do you have a minute for some questions?” He had a deep tenor that made her insides go gooey.
Until she heard the next voice.
“Roxy Horne. Twice in one day.” As if he was conjured up just by thinking of him. Detective MacAuley walked in right after the sexy baritone.
Rafe followed.
“You know each other?” The scowl on Rafe’s face told her the next half hour would be interesting.
And by interesting, she meant worse than a clown popping balloons while feeding her lime wedges.